


demolition of a delicate kind

by Ariesgirl666



Category: American Horror Story: Apocalypse
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-02
Updated: 2018-11-02
Packaged: 2019-08-14 18:02:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16497530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ariesgirl666/pseuds/Ariesgirl666
Summary: based off of the prompt “you’re not an angel. You never were” requested by mvllorylvngdon





	demolition of a delicate kind

**Author's Note:**

> this takes place years after the end of the season in a world where Michael needs to be kept under constant guard at the Outpost and Mallory is the only one who can hold him.  
> Listen to “state of seduction” by Digital Daggers.

“You’re not an angel, Mallory. You never were.”

Mallory stares into cold eyes. Michael paces in the binding circle like a caught tiger. “You want to know what you are, little doe?” he asks. Mallory’s lips press thin. “No,” she lies.

Michael looks disdainful. “How long do you think you can hide from the truth, Mallory?”

She pretends not to hear him.

“Your dear Miss Cordelia certainly doesn’t have the answers you seek,” he continues teasingly. “She wants them, I’m sure, but she’s trying to solve a Gordian knot with a needle.”

Before she transferred to Miss Robichaux’s, Mallory was a major in Greek Mythology. She knew the story of the Gordian knot. How did he know she would?

“You’re a liar,” Mallory’s voice trembles as she speaks.

“Never to you, Mallory. The truth is so much more rewarding.”

She stays silent and it feels like years pass in that Outpost trap. She doesn’t meet his eyes.

He has to speak first.

“You aren’t of the heavens, girl,” says Michael. “You’re thrice removed from Hell.”

“I don’t -“

“You’re the resurrection, Mallory, but of the first Supreme. Not of Christ.” He leans forward, delicately cruel. “You’re just a reflection of a soulless little witch scrabbling in the dirt for my father’s attention.”

“No,” Mallory whispers.

“We’re more alike than you care to admit, Mallory.” Michael shrugs and even that is a thing of grace. “At least I’m honest.” He crouches down to her level and touches his fingers to her lips. “Oh, Mallory.”

 

How do you solve a Gordian knot? You cut it in half.


End file.
